


Smile

by whatthedruidscallme



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur's a little stupid but that's alright, Fluff, Love, Sick Character, Worry, idk if it counts as angst, it's like 1000 words how angsty could it possibly be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-11-01 22:09:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20523515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthedruidscallme/pseuds/whatthedruidscallme
Summary: Was there anything else to say that wouldn’t give him away, that wouldn’t tell Gaius that he might love the country boy that was dying in front of him? A boy who couldn’t handle a sword and sometimes flatly refused to do his job, stole food from the kitchen when he felt like it and still somehow managed to make Arthur laugh?





	Smile

“Terrible thing, of course…has a marvellous constitution, sire, but I don’t…hasn’t woken yet, to be truthful I’m not quite sure what to…afraid I’m not sure when, if ever, he will be able to return to your service…”

Arthur jerked his head up at the last words; the others had been going out as though Gaius was speaking from a great distance. “If ever? Meaning he may never be able to come back?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know, sire.”

In the end, it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. He only threw up twice on the way to his chambers, and once after he’d shut the door behind him.

* 

“I don’t want him.”

“You need a manservant. George is more than qualified and eager to begin. He can start in the morning.”

“I don’t care, I don’t want him. I’ll wait for Merlin to get better.”

“Arthur,” Uther said, a rather higher degree of impatience in his voice than usual, “the boy may never be well enough to tend to you again. This is not only unreasonable, it’s lunacy to wait for–”

“I don’t care,” Arthur repeated. “I’ll wait for him. I’ll manage everything fine until he gets better, and he will.”

Uther threw up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Fine. But I expect you and your room to be as immaculate as when you had someone to do it for you.” 

*

Visits were useless. His condition never changed. Gaius spoon fed him, checked his heart, checked his lungs. Opened his eyes, pinched his arm, pressed a hand against his forehead, and then sat down heavily and resumed his work. Sometimes Merlin whimpered or took a deeper breath than usual, maybe he flinched. It didn’t matter. He never woke, no matter how hard Arthur held onto his limp hand or whispered secrets he’d never said out loud. Something told him he would’ve said them the same even if Merlin was awake.

Visits were useless, but Arthur went every day.

*

His hands were trembling. He could hardly bear the feeling inside him, like something rare and horribly delicate was fracturing. Morgana stroked his back and blinked back tears, but he only noticed this in a vague way, the way he would notice someone watching him on the training field. “I miss him,” he whispered. He wasn’t sure what would happen if he stopped saying it, he had said it countless times already and it didn’t help him feel better, but it was worse if he didn’t. 

“I know you do,” she said. Even her voice sounded like she was fighting off tears. “I miss him too.”

Arthur gave a half choked laugh and wrapped his arms around himself, soaking in the warmth of someone else who missed his servant almost as much as he did, and hoped to the gods he wouldn’t break.

* 

“My mother loved me,” he murmured. He could hear Merlin’s shallow breathing from just a few inches away. “Father said she did, said she used to tell me stories before I was born. She fell in love with me before she ever saw me. I think that’s why he won’t talk about her. Maybe why he looks at me the way he does. She loved me more than herself, or even him, and she died because of it.”

Black lashes fluttered in the hollow beneath Merlin’s closed eyes. His lips were glistening with perspiration and his chest was moving unevenly with his breath, his hand didn’t so much as flinch in Arthur’s, and he squeezed harder. He leaned his head against Merlin’s black, wild one, and fought off the sobs that threatened to choke off his voice yet again. “Please…please come back to me.” 

He fell asleep waiting for an answer, hand still clasped in Merlin’s. 

*

“I’m scared,” Arthur tried to say, but something rising in his throat strangled his words. Perhaps Morgana understood anyway, because she hugged him closer to her like she would a frightened child and murmured meaningless sympathies. He was shaking harder now, it didn’t matter how tightly she held him. Part of him wanted her to let go, to let him break. Maybe it would be easier to pick up the pieces than hold them all together.

“I–I think I love him, Morgana.” The words were wrenched from him unwillingly; he’d never wanted to say anything less. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” she whispered. “I know you do.”

*

He came ceaselessly back. Sometimes he washed his servant’s hair, enjoying the simplicity of clean water as it poured over Merlin’s hair and fell into the bucket below. Gaius had stopped observing them weeks ago, letting Arthur take care of him and go through the same routine every hour he was there. He’d gotten quite good at it, or that’s what Gaius said. He talked through his day as he did it, hoping for a smile as he made a joke at a knight’s expense, or a roll of dark blue eyes when he mentioned a stupid mistake he made. Nothing ever happened, but Arthur took careful stock of his unchanging expression every time. 

There was something impenetrable in Gaius’s eyes when he did bother to watch them together, the way Arthur’s hands would trace over his collarbone, or rest against his pale throat as his heartbeat fluttered beneath gentle fingers that, only hours before, had wielded a sword with devastating accuracy. 

“You’re taking great care of him,” Gaius said, interrupting a particularly funny story that involved Leon, a pig, and too much wine at the king’s table, and Arthur flinched at the sound of it. It sounded too much like praise for his liking. 

“Maybe he’ll get better.” Was there anything else to say that wouldn’t give him away, that wouldn’t tell Gaius he might love the country boy that was dying in front of him? A boy who couldn’t handle a sword and sometimes flatly refused to do his job, stole food from the kitchen when he felt like it and still somehow managed to make Arthur laugh? 

“Maybe,” Gaius said, gazing at him closely. “Is there something you want to tell me, sire? Some reason why you sit here instead of training, or haven’t hired a new manservant yet?” 

“No,” he said too quickly, and swallowed back the confession that threatened to burst out. “There’s nothing.”

“Of course,” Gaius answered, but his look said something different he didn’t want to see. 

For the first time in many weeks, Arthur was relieved to leave the physician’s quarters.

*

Arthur was still in bed when someone–Gaius–opened the door without knocking. 

“Any change,” he mumbled into his pillow. He asked the same thing every morning. Gaius had tried to stop giving daily updates when it became clear nothing was going to change, but Arthur had insisted on it, and he had obliged.

“Rather a lot,” came a wan, cheerful voice.

The sound twisted through Arthur like a rusty, serrated knife and he bolted upright, sucking in a hard breath before he could focus long enough to see him.

Merlin stood in his doorway, pale and swaying and with a greyish tinge to his skin, but his eyes were open and sparkling, and his mouth was curved in that lopsided smile Arthur had missed so much. 

“Merlin,” he breathed. The name felt foreign coming out of his mouth. 

“You remember! I’m honoured, sire,” he said, and nearly fell over turning around to close the door. Arthur was out of his bed in a flash, catching the door to shut it and grabbing Merlin to drag him forcibly to the bed and sit him down. “Should you even be up?” 

Merlin rolled his eyes, and a shock of bright happiness bloomed in Arthur’s stomach. “I’m fine. Gaius was fussing too but I knew that was going to happen. I didn’t expect it from _you_. By the way, did you clean at all while I was gone? Didn’t anyone? Your chambers are a mess, it doesn’t look like anyone’s washed your clothes or bothered to make your bed in I don’t even know how long, I don’t even want to think about what your dresser looks–”

“I’m in love with you,” Arthur said.

_There_, he thought with a kind of vicious happiness that tore at him, brilliant and terrible at the same time, exactly the same kind of feeling he got when he knew he’d worked hard and was going to lose anyway. _I’ve said it._

Merlin had halted in the middle of his sentence. He looked at Arthur, who stared blankly back. His heart was either pounding so hard he couldn’t feel it or it had stopped completely. His arms hung limp by his sides. Merlin was still staring, still looking at him with his head tilted to the side and blue eyes curiously surveying him as though he were drunk, which he wasn’t, he should know that–

Abruptly, Merlin opened his mouth and then shut it again. Arthur fought the wild urge to laugh; he looked like a fish staring at the bait. “You–are you–”

“No, I’m not drunk,” Arthur cut him off. “Honestly, Merlin, I–it’s–it’s eight in the morning.” His voice trailed off as he watched a faint flush stain Merlin’s cheeks. “Huh.”

Merlin swallowed. “What?” 

“You look better when you’re not grey,” he said with some surprise. “I like it when you’re red.”

Merlin uttered some sort of insane laugh, coming out wrong and too harsh to be happy. “Did you just say that? You’re not even going to ask?”

“Ask what?” 

“If I love you too,” Merlin said. His gaze flicked from Arthur’s eyes to his lips and back up again. 

“Oh.” Arthur was dizzy; it felt as though his bones were made out of feathers and the air had suddenly been sucked out of the room. He wanted to flee and step closer at the same time. “Well,” he said, “do you?”

Merlin smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
